Saturday, May 28, 2011

Why

Kristian Isringhaus
052711/2002 GMT, 1502 EST
Central Park, NYC, USA

At this point, sailing around the world seems to be the only logical thing to do.

I am now 33 years old and my mind is still troubled by the same questions that troubled me when I was a little kid. Even worse, the questions seem to become more pressing as I grow older and start to wonder why I can’t find the answers I seek.

Can I claim I know my kind because I am one of them? One of seven billion! How did I ever even hope to understand mankind, seeing how little of it I have experienced?

The fact is that I do not understand us. Why do we so happily destroy the world we live in? Why do we so happily destroy each other? Do basic instincts still overcome our ever so superior intelligence? We do need to compete to survive. Though far from living in a natural environment, competition is within our nature. But shouldn’t all this competing be commenced with a tiny tad of sense by now?

Else I wonder what arrogance allows us to call ourselves the pride of creation?

Is it infantile to ask why we are here? Is it outdated in times of microbiology advancing on to deciphering our genetic code to ask why we are the way we are? The answer is no. Scientists these days find more and more details about our behavior and our origins. They identify little areas of our brains that are responsible for us doing this, little experiences in our stone age past that are responsible for us doing that. More and more, though, do I get the feeling that by finding all those little details and pieces we forget to look at the big picture. We do, to use a worn expression, fail to see the forest for all the trees.

I want to see the big picture, though. I want to know mankind.

In order to understand my kind I need to meet its members. As many of them as possible. I need to see their cultures. As many of them as possible. I need to hear their wishes and worries. Their beliefs and doubts. Find their idiosyncrasies and similarities. Sailing around the world seems to be the only logical thing to do. I shall learn.

I do admit that the beautiful landscapes I hope to encounter along the way, the pristine beaches and colorful coral reefs, the valleys of abundant vegetation and vast deserts, the pretty, ugly, small, big, cuddly, and scary animals all over, might distract me from my research about my kind here and there. Even then, though, I will still learn what books can’t teach me and that is a happy thought.

I will not say ‘no’ to an opportunity to snorkel and I will not say ‘no’ to a hike through the jungle even if it takes me away from all humans for weeks. I will enjoy the beauty of this world before it is too late for that. Please do not be misled by the ambitious goals described above.

This first blog entry, however, is meant to explain why I am sailing around the world. Seeking some understanding of mankind is the one and only original reason.

Now let me give a word of advice to those of you who share my goals: little gear is required to learn about one’s kind. It can certainly vary according to individual preferences but here is what I packed for my research.

-          Tent (1 unit)
-          First aid kit (1 unit)
-          Clothes (about 5 pounds, would have packed more if there were more room)
-          Camping pots and dishes (4 units)
-          Water purification device, iodine based (1 unit, good for about 2000 liters)
-          Books (120 units in digital form, 10 units in paper form)
-          Sunscreen (2 liters, 2.1 quarts)
-          Bug spray (3 liters/3.2 quarts)
-          Girlfriend (1 unit)
-          Sleeping bag (1 unit each)
-          Sleeping pad (1 unit each)
-          Compass (1 unit)
-          Computer (1 unit)
-          Camera (1 unit)
-          Cigarettes for trading (200 units)
-          Fishing line (1900 yards)
-          Fishing hooks (90 units)
-          Knife (1 unit each)
-          Marlin spike (1 unit each)
-          Towel (1 unit to share)
-          Passport (1 individualized unit each)
-          Snorkel mask (1 unit each)

 A boat is not required. At least it is not required to own a boat. All one needs to do is find boat owners that are willing to offer passage in trade for labor. One can do so on the internet or on docks—neither way is less valid than the other.

The items listed above are all one needs to commence research on their own kind. Except, of course, for the things I forgot to mention. And the things I forgot to think about.

Crossing the Line: Wynne's first post

1519 EST
Brooklyn, NY

For the last month, Kristian and I have been busy. I’ve dragged him up and down the east coast, visiting friends and family. In between the landscaping projects at the farm, long drives to and around the Northeast, siblings’ graduation ceremonies, and visiting with friends we won’t see again until we’ve passed through more than a few time zones, Kristian and I have been trying to prepare for our circumnavigation. One strange law of traveling is that when preparing for a trip, you always come up with something else you need. The list seems to grow tauntingly ahead of us as we near the end. Perhaps this has something to do with a constant redefinition of the word “need.” We should be happy we didn’t have more time to prepare, or our careful over-thinking of this word would have had us packing way more than will fit into our combined 150 L of backpack space. The truth about what is necessary and what isn’t will only be clear in Nuku Hiva, I suppose.

It’s difficult to prepare to travel to somewhere like Nuku Hiva. There is little information about it on the Internet, at least in English. When we describe our plans to family, friends, acquaintances, and people we awkwardly meet at siblings' graduations, almost no one knows where Nuku Hiva is. You can tell by the look on their face and their shifting eyes that many people are just pretending to know where French Polynesia is, or the Marquesas. This is nothing to be ashamed of; I didn’t know where it was either until I decided to go there. I am convinced that about all that comes to mind for most people when they hear place names like Tahiti, Tonga, Antigua, Barbados, Canaries, Azores, Sechelles, or Maldives, is warmth, palm trees, coconuts, white beaches, cerulean bays. Like I was, they may not even be sure which waters these islands are in—Pacific, Atlantic, Caribbean, Indian. All that exists in the mind’s eye is the mythical Tropical Island, more a fiction than a place.

To get to the particular island of Nuku Hiva, we must cross the Equator, which also possesses a mythical aura. For hundreds of years, mariners from many countries, on everything from naval submarines to cruise ships, have commemorated individuals’ first equatorial crossing with elaborate “line crossing” ceremonies. As Wikipedia, mother of all wisdom, tells us, these ceremonies were often quite brutal, even resulting in occasional deaths. Today, mellower versions are popular among various mariners. I myself have enviously heard stories of my friends on tall ships undergoing mild hazing at the hands of a crew member wearing old oakum on his head and pretending to be the god Neptune, in order to earn a certificate which officially declares their induction into the order of Shellbacks.

I doubt there will be any fraternity-style hazing involved in our line crossing on Le Pelican with the Gillot family, but I’m still giddy, as if it were my first day in college, or the first time I had a beer, or my first night sleeping on a sailboat. The Equator is a line beyond which our Tropical Island lies. Beyond the Equator, things like the seasons are upside-down, and even the sky is unfamiliar.

I won’t pretend that the world isn’t so small these days that what we’re doing is unheard of, that no one travels to the emeralds scattered through the warm southern Pacific. It’s safe to say that almost everyone has heard of Tahiti, and many go there regularly. However, most of them probably travel by airplane, and are therefore not entitled to Shellback certificates. Even among those cruisers who sail there, few have the pleasure of being as delightfully unprepared as Kristian and I. We have no boat, and not much money. We won’t be able to afford a flight out of Nuku Hiva, so we’d better use our charisma to hitch another ride, or become exceptional swimmers. Kristian insists that purchasing food at a grocery store is out of the question, and that we’ve got to perfect surf fishing and the slaughter of wild goats, or sleep with growling bellies. It’s hard to picture my immediate future consisting of a month surrounded by blue sea and blue sky, followed by days spent fishing with a stick I found on the beach, trying to speak pidgin French, and sleeping under a foreign sky—yet this is the only image I have to help me prepare myself.

Now that we’ve started a blog, and even got a sponsor (thank you, Back Country Ski and Sports), I feel like I need to be able to verbalize why I’m doing this, what I hope to gain from it, and the attitude in which I approach it. First of all, I would like to say that I’m somewhat of a coward and a worrier, and that it is not easy or comfortable for me to undertake something like this. It’s not as if I’m going grocery shopping, or brushing my teeth. There is something terrifying about stepping toward a place that is a myth, a fiction, crossing the line into an unfamiliar and hence unimaginable way of life, and hoping that there will be something under your foot when it lands. Preparing for it makes me anxious and cranky sometimes. I worry about student loans, vaccines, visas, and language barriers; what books, electronics, musical instruments, fishhooks, and sunblock we ought to bring for our indefinite vacation to anywhere. I stress over how to efficiently box up and store my whole life, cars, clothes, friends, family, everything that doesn’t fit into 50 L of backpack space. I hope that practice will help me overcome my fear of traveling in the same way that exposure helps people overcome their fear of spiders or heights. May it be so simple.

I mean this to be encouraging. When people say, “Oh, what you’re doing sounds so amazing, I wish I could do something like that,” I would like to remind them that no law of physics is preventing them from doing whatever they want. It’s not as if Kristian and I somehow learned how to fall up, and everyone else is still constrained by the law of gravity. Preparation, sacrifice, and perhaps a bit of self-overcoming are required, but even travel-shy people like me can make these things happen. We hope that this blog will provide an informative resource to help other people transform their vague, half-baked travel dreams into realities.

Posted by Wynne